


Blurred Image

by Shannona



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Depression, F/M, Hallucinations, Mind-healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26566141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannona/pseuds/Shannona
Summary: Five Years after the Second Wizarding War, the lives of the Golden Trio are inexplicably changed when Hermione starts to suffer from ‘out of control magic’ and ‘hallucinogenic episodes’ featuring a past that she does not remember. Mind Healers are at a loss for a diagnosis and Hermione’s fate is looking dire when she looks into the mirror one fateful night. It would appear that she is not the only Hermione in need of help.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to share this new idea with you all, something I have been thinking about for the last few months. 
> 
> I want to start by saying a big thank you to my husband, who isn't on here, but has made such a big difference in the plot for this story and allowing me to mind-map with him at all hours of the night like a crazy person!
> 
> Secondly, I want to apologise for my inability to stick to a writing schedule. I have such a demanding job and although I am desperate to write all the time, my work has to come first. I can promise, however, that I will not leave this abandoned - so please stick with me.
> 
> Lastly, a warning that I will be adding more characters and tags as I go, as I find it very difficult to confirm those at the beginning.

**‘The Boy Who Lived Defeats Lord Voldemort’**

_ May 3rd 1997 - Reporter A Almeidus _

Harry Potter, The Chosen One, defeats Lord Voldemort.

The Wizarding World, once again, owes its freedom to The Boy Who Lived. Harry James Potter, famous for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the age of 1 when a killing curse rebounded ( _ see page 6 for an account _ ), has defied the odds and faced the evil wizard once more. 

The battle, which erupted in the late hours of May 1st at Hogwarts Castle, was fought bravely by those witches and wizards who volunteered to fight for the rights of wizard and muggle-kind alike. Lead by Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ( _ see page 5 _ ), the side of justice and valour fought hard for several hours against the dark forces that attempted to penetrate the castle after they were called there when word was spread that The Boy Who Lived, formally known as Undesirable Number 1, had entered the school grounds under the cover of nightfall. He was accompanied by his faithful friends Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. It is believed that ‘The Golden Trio’ ( _ see page 2 for full spread examination _ ) as they have been aptly named by well wishers, had broken into the school to free Hogwarts from the tyrannical rule of the Headmaster Severus Snape ( _ see Page 10 for details _ ).

There is currently limited information about what happened at various points throughout the battle, but we can confirm that in the early hours on yesterday morning, Harry Potter was spotted exiting the Forbidden Forest in the arms of the half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid. It was then thatYou-Know-Who announced the death of Harry Potter. You can then imagine our shock, readers, when Harry Potter leapt from the arms of Mr Hagrid alive and well, raised his wand and duelled with the self-proclaimed Dark Lord until all that was left was a corpse. 

The newly appointed interim Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, announced this morning that there would be a press conference with Harry Potter in the coming days. ( _ see page 4 for more) _

All that is for certain now, is that we can be thankful again that we are under the protection of The Boy Who Lived.

_ For more information and eye witness accounts of the battle, please turn to Page 6. _

* * *

‘ **Golden Tro split?’**

_ July 19th 1997 - Reporter Betty Braithwaite  _

Have our Golden Trio split up? Is the friendship that saved the Wizarding World on the rocks? Why is it that we never see the Golden Trio out in public?

With rumours about our favourite heroes circulating wildly since the Battle of Hogwarts only two months ago, we can say that it has been difficult to keep up with the elusive ‘Golden Trio’

But, dear readers, I have been able obtain, what some would call, scandalous information. It was made clear after the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, on May 2nd, that two thirds of our Golden Trio were head over heels for each other. Eye-witness reports from inside the castle on the night in question state that Hermione Granger, dubbed the brightest witch of her age, and Ronald Weasley, long time best friend of Harry Potter, were seen in an embrace that rocked the school. Since then, when the Trio are seen in public, Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have not been seen in any similar altercations and I had started to wonder about the nature of their relationship.

I can now confirm that the two young star-crossed lovers may not be so star-crossed after all. An eye-witness testimony has been brought to me that states that the two may have been involved, but have since split. A one, Luna Lovegood, longtime acquaintance of the two, was overheard telling Miss Granger that she was ‘so sad’ that they had ‘separated’ and that she ‘thought you (Miss Granger and Mr Weasley) would last longer.’

Now, all we have to do is speculate as to why this breakup occurred. Were the rumours of their relationship unfounded? Did the relationship of two/thirds of the trio put a strain on the friendship? Did Hermione Granger only ever have feelings for The Boy Who Lived?

_ Turn to Page 12 to find out more _

* * *

‘ **Hogwarts Re-Open’s - A Look at the Returning Eight Year Cohort’**

_ September 1st 1997 - Reporter E Limus _

Only four months on from battle and Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is back open and ready to accept students from across the country to study. 

Newly appointed Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, was pleased to announce last month that after extensive repairs on the 1000 year old building, the school would be open as usual in September and ready to resume its usual curriculum. We have heard praise and thanks to the large community of people that flocked to the site of the famous Battle in early May, to help repair and reconstruct the building so that the Wizarding World would be able to begin the healing process that it was so desperate for.

A newly refurbished building and a Headmistress are not the only new things happening at this ancient establishment this year, however. Prof. McGonagall announced last month that she would also be accepting back students who would have completed their education last year. And so, for the first time in the school's history, the educational academy will be welcoming an eighth year of students who will be housed in an entirely newly-built area of the castle. Professor McGonagall has said ‘We want the students to come back ready for their education, but understand that they are adults in the eyes of the Wizarding World, some of them are war veterans and so, treating them like children would not be appropriate. Our new Eight Year Barracks, combine all the houses of previous students, and allow for a space that is truly theirs.’

But who will be re-joining their previous cohort on today’s Hogwarts Express? A source has reported that Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley were spotted this morning entering King’s Cross Station and rumour has circulated that, none other than the Boy Who Lived himself, Mr Harry Potter, is also present and in attendance this year. Along with the ‘Golden Trio’, newly pardoned and declared Order of the Phoenix spy, Draco Malfoy and leader of Dumbledore’s Army, Neville Longbottom are among them.

We will be sure to keep an avid eye out for our young heroes as they complete the education that is deserved of them.

_ Turn to Page 6 to find out about new staffing and curriculum changes. _

* * *

**‘Where Are They Now? The Heroes of Battle One Year On’**

_ May 3rd 1998 - Reporter A Almeidus _

One year ago, our world was shocked to its core for the third time in a generation when He Who Must Not Be Named was faced head on in battle at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Brave witches and wizards, some under the age of adulthood, stepped up to conquer the evil that had spread through this country like a plague, and emerged victorious. Today, we celebrate this victory once again and, in a special edition, would like to call attention to the heroes of this battle as they spend the day amongst the royalty of the Wizarding World.

It was announced at New Years, by newly elected Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, that this years Order of Merlin ceremony would be moved to coincide with the remembrance of the Second Wizarding War and that the list of honourees would be considerably larger to ensure that those who had fought for our freedoms were recognised by the community they had served.

Not surprisingly, this year's recipients of the Order of Merlin, First Class; usually one per year, had been extended to five. This includes Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, for her dedication to the Order of the Phoenix and Remus Lupin, who is being posthumously awarded for his work with the Order of the Phoenix. With this, it makes Mr Lupin the first lycanthropic recipient of the award and has pushed forward the Werewolf rights movement that has been at a standstill since before the war.

To no one’s surprise, the final three recipients of the highest honour in our world are being received by ‘The Golden Trio’. Mr Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, is officially being awarded for his ‘Defeat of The Dark Lord Voldemort and for his contributions to the Order of the Phoenix’. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger are being awarded for ‘Services to the Order of the Phoenix and their considerable contributions towards the defeat of The Dark Lord Voldemort.’ But where are our heroes now and what they have been doing since we left them a year ago?

Although they were ‘unavailable for comment’, this publication is aware that they are currently residing at Hogwarts during term time to complete their final year of wizarding education. As well at this, Harry Potter has been a key figure in a wave of new charities that have cropped up since the battle, and has donated a large amount to the ‘Orphans of War’ charitable fund, which he co-founded with Mrs Andromeda Tonks, mother of the late Nyphamdora Tonks and mother in law to Order of Merlin, First Class recipient, Remus Lupin. From within the school, Hermione Granger has been working tirelessly in her effort for the right of House Elves and is said to be working on a bill to put forward to the Wizengamot herself, and Ron Weasley has been seen leaving the grounds occasionally to attend Quidditch trials at various well respected teams across the country. There are, however, rumours that the trio have been approached by the Ministry already for work once their school year is over. I can say this, readers, that personally I would like nothing more than to see our young heroes working from within the Ministry to keep us safe once more. 

Unfortunately, there is nothing much to be said about our young heroes personal lives. The three have made it clear that they are ‘permanently unavailable for interview’ when it comes to their private lives. All we do know is that Harry is still dating one, young Miss Ginevra Weasley, younger sister of Ronald Weasley, and that they have been together since before the war began. Will we be hearing wedding bells in the near future? We will keep you abreast of the information as we hear it. And what of the other two-thirds of our famous trio? Since their split, Ron and Hermione do not appear to be in any other romantic connection, but we will watch with interest as to who will snap up the hearts of these dedicated and inspiring young people. 

Finally, as the Ministry and the Wizarding World prepare to honour all our heroes in a ceremony later today, we want to remember all those that have fallen for the freedom’s of our people. To lay down one’s life for the pursuit of justice for others is a noble cause, one that will not be forgotten. In memory of these brave people, Minister Shacklebolt announced last week that a monument is to built in the memory of the fallen in Hogsmeade Village and that there will be a minute of silence at 11am today, where wizards across the country will raise their wands to remember those who lost their lives.

_ For more information of the most recent announcement, please turn to page 6. _

* * *

‘ **Exclusive Interview with Draco Malfoy- The Spy on the Inside’**

_ January 10th 1999 - Reporter Parvati Patil. _

I sat down with newly announced Order of Merlin First Class recipient, Draco Malfoy, last week at a restaurant in Horizont Alley. I admit, readers, when I first approached Mr Malfoy about an interview, I was sceptical that he would even respond, given his history with reporters and our own personal history from school. But, nevertheless, he responded with polite enthusiasm and I was pleasantly pleased to meet with a young man who would make most women under the age of 50 swoon in their seats, who had already ordered a bottle of wine for the table and insisted that I call him by his first name.

**So, Draco, an Order of Merlin, First Class. That is a great honour. Tell me, how does it feel to be one of the lucky ones?**

_ Honestly, I am humbled. There are many great witches and wizards before me that have been given the prestigious award and to have my name added to that list is something that I truly am blessed by. _

**Of course, this isn’t the first time your name has been in the press over the last three years. You have, as I hesitate to call it, a somewhat tumultuous relationship with the newspapers.**

_ Yes, that is one way of putting it. I have been open about my dislike of newspapers and reporters and the way in which they can both hinder and twist the truth to their own personal gain. Of course, the last three years have been eye opening in relation to the Wizarding World and their view of me as well as the jobs that I have done in the past. _

**And your past is, of course, no secret. You opted for an open trial at the end of the war and welcomed reporters into the courtroom where your story was told to the world by none other than the Chosen One himself, Harry Potter.**

_ I knew it was important that the world heard the story first hand rather than through whispers and the trial gave me a perfect opportunity to do that. Becoming such a vital piece of the puzzle to, what seemed at the time, like a never ending war at the tender age of 16, was something that was truly thrust upon me. My childhood and education prior to that did not lend me to that work, but necessity called and, as the world now knows, Albus Dumbledore saved me and in turn, I repaid him by joining a just cause. _

**And I am sure you will forgive me for this, but your past with Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter - and the rest of the Golden Trio - does play a large part in your early days of espionage for the Order.**

_ It did. We hate to admit it now,, but those early days were horrific and tough on both sides. My inbuilt hatred of certain lifestyles and magical blood, the hatred that I was raised to foster inside myself, definitely put me at odds with the rest of the order. And, it didn’t get much easier as time went on. After the death of Albus Dumbledore which, as you are aware, is a matter of public record and this is all I will say about it, the feelings of truth within the Order did not get any stronger. The risk of being, for lack of a better term, a spy, is that there is little room for trust or error as well as there is little need for more than a few people to know the truth.  _

**So, am I to understand that Harry and the others did not know you were a spy?**

_ No, they knew. They were unaware of the plans between Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, which led to some particularly difficult conversations. I was lucky, however. As I am sure the world is aware and I am sure he will detest me for saying it; Harry is an incredibly forgiving person and wants to trust people. Of course, it took him and the others a while to accept me again into the Order, but as the trial transcripts are clear on; I worked tirelessly behind the scenes to ensure that plans were passed on and sabotage made.  _

**There are people out there that would like to see more proof of your work for the Order, who are under the impression that Harry’s word and a few files are enough to clear you on’ what they would refer to as, ‘evil-doing’. What would you say to people like that?**

_ It is hard to know where to begin with that. I understand where people are coming from; my family history and name in itself is enough to strike hatred into the most loving of people and that is something that I am going to have to live with for the rest of my life. Of course, if people are unwilling to believe Harry and Minister Shacklebolt, then I know that they will not listen even if we were able to create these files from nothing. Again, as I said before, the life of a spy is difficult and secrecy is key. I am sure if there had been more files lying around, my job would have been found out pretty quickly and I would have been disposed of. All I can use is my word and evidence it with further deeds, that is what I am most interested in now. _

**For those of my readers that are unaware, you do head up multiple charities across the country. Is this something you are doing to better popular opinion of yourself?**

_ What a loaded question! I think for now I will stick to the good that comes out of the work that is done. Yes, I do head up several charities that span a lot of different causes throughout the Wizarding World. Right now, my main focus is on the newest charity that I have co-founded with Harry as an extension to his already, very successful ‘Orphans of War’ charity. This one is called ‘Light of Magic’ and works with both underprivileged magical families and muggleborn families to help educate children before they reach schooling age. I am sure you will know that there are many issues with children not being able to get the right level of education due to their monetary funding. But, not only that, muggleborn children are left to deal with their unpredictable magic until such a time comes when they are told about our world. Myself and Harry are certain that by reaching these families early, they will be more comfortable in their own identity and be able to meet more wizards and witches of their own age. It is still in the early stages, but the eventual hope is that a Primary School can be set up to assist in the underage education.  _

**So - no hopes of joining the Ministry?**

_ That is the domain of the Golden Trio at the moment - and they are doing a fine job of it. I think I should stick to where my talents are both needed and most appreciated. _

**But, even if you wanted to join the Ministry, it wouldn’t be the first of their domains that you have infiltrated. Rumour has it that the four of you currently reside together?**

_ Well, whoever your source is keeps you well informed - something tells me Mr Longbottom will be receiving an owl soon. But yes, you are correct. We have actually been living together since the end of the war. I was unable to return to my birthplace due to a mixture of Ministry regulations, Dark Magic seepage and the fact that I hate the place. The only other residence I own is in France, where my mother resides. At first, it seemed the easy solution as we had become so used to each other for the year preceding the war, but after a time it became comfortable and, one is want to say, enjoyable. The place is big enough for us all. I do have to be honest though, if I was able to get my hands on a time-turner and mention that to first year Draco, he would be particularly annoyed about that. _

**Speaking to you has been surprisingly refreshing. Before I leave you to your lunch I am dying to know - what does it feel like to become a ferret?**

_ I am going to have to disappoint you with a no-comment. _

  
  


* * *

**Lightning Strikes - The Youngest Head taking the Auror’s by Storm’**

_ March 12th 1999 - Reporter Justin Finch-Fletchley _

The Lightning Man strikes again! 

Mr Harry James Potter, formerly known as the Chosen One, has made headlines today as he was named Head of the Auror Department at the tender age of 20, making him the youngest Head of Department in the history of the Ministry of Magic.

Harry Potter, known for his defeat of the Dark Lord Voldermort twice before the age of 18, has always had a soft spot for heroics and the safety of others. After his miraculous defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, there was much talk about what our young Mr Potter would do next. He did, however, shock the Wizarding World when he decided to return to Hogwarts to finish his education. It is said, however, that the Auror Department had their eye on him that year.

When he joined the Auror Corp. for his training the following September, it was to nobody’s surprise that he, along with fellow Golden Trio member Ronald Weasley, were thrust through the rankings to be named full Auror’s within their first month. Teamed together, they still currently hold the record for most successful arrests and detainments. 

Although the Auror Department, and the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, has always been secretive of their staffing and staff movement, it has been well known for for the past two years that Mr Potter has been training under the departments best and brightest, training for the future while keeping his own eye on the top. It is rumoured that Minister Shacklebolt himself takes a weekly meeting with Mr Potter. Whatever has happened, however, seems to have paid off for him as he takes the reins of a Department in the middle of such turmoil.

The news that Death Eaters are still at large, not only across the British Isles, but abroad as well, has sparked fear through the Wizarding World that the DMLE are not equipped to handle a further dark uprising. Mr Potter has called for a press release and statement to be taken later this afternoon where the hopes are that he will address this issue.

This reporter, however, would like to address the so-called elephant in the room. There are many in our world who, although thank Mr Potter for his selfless dedication to the safety of our lives, have to question whether he is ready for such a step in his career at this time? For someone so young, will he be able to maintain the peace we are currently experiencing? From my own experience with Mr Potter, I am aware that his heart is always in the right place, but has his training changed the fact that he loves nothing more than to run blindly into the fray without a second thought? I am sure only time will tell.

* * *

‘ **Werewolf Reforms - Everything You Need to Know’**

_ December 30th 1999 - Reporter Justin Finch-Fletchley _

A blight on the magical community or a terrified group of people who need protection?

For years, this is the question that has been asked over and over again about the ever increasing Werewolf population of Great Britain. Since the Second Wizarding War, cases of Lycanthropy have been on the rise and our current laws and medical system have struggled to cope. There are those, however, that see the question posed as immoral and that the views of both the government and the people need to be changed.

The person fighting for this is none other than Golden Girl herself, Miss Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio and newest high ranking member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Miss Granger joined the department fresh out of Hogwarts and has had some minor success in her cause to bring justice to magical beasts throughout the wizarding word. Most notably to date, she has been able to sign a peace accord with the Centaur population of the Forbidden Forest in Scotland and is working her way towards getting them removed from the XXXX classification.

But her newest crusade, one which some have said is overdue, is to ensure equal rights for those in the wizarding community suffering with the effects of Lycanthropy. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ Miss Granger was quoted saying at the last Ministry fundraising ball. ‘Werewolves are humans the same as anybody else - a disease does not diminish your worth. I am fighting for those humans to be able to live and work, earn a living, have a family; the things that everyone has a right to do’. Her new bill, being put forward to the Wizaengamot today, looks to change werewolf legislation and allow for werewolves to get the correct medical care at a reduced price, as well as making it illegal for employers to discriminate against those suffering with Lycanthropy.

And while some would agree with Miss Granger’s outspoken views on the matter, there are those that would hound her and belittle her cause. Cornelius Fudge, former Minister for Magic, has been very outspoken against the new bill. ‘Miss Granger’s heart has always been in the right place, but these creatures are dangerous and put, not only our lives at risk, but the lives of Muggles. To change legislation to allow them to move more freely within our world would be a catastrophe’. 

This reporter, however, has the inside scoop that there are several members of the Wizenagamot who have been affected, either directly or indirectly, by the plight of the werewolves. Does the Golden Girl have the government on her side? We will have to wait until this afternoon’s voting session.

* * *

‘ **Surprise Move - Ron Weasley leaves Auror Office for Professional Quidditch’**

_ April 1st 2000 - Reporter Pavarti Patil _

In a suprise statement this morning, Mr Ronald Weasley, best friend of Harry Potter and one of the lead Auror’s at the DMLE, has announced his resignation from the Auror Corp. and the Ministry of Magic. This shock news comes just days after his latest high profile arrest of high ranking Death Eater, Cantankerous Nott, who has been missing since the Battle of Hogwarts. This arrest brought Mr Weasley his 70th detainment in just three short years, smashing other records and gaining him a plaque in the Auror Hall of Arrests.

In another twist, Mr Weasley announced that he would be leaving his successful Auror career to become the newest Keeper for the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Team, a team he has supported since his youth. The team, who have not had a successful run in the league for over 50 years are hopeful that this new, budding edition to their team will allow for a higher save percentage as well as the additional lure of a new fan base.

‘I have always loved Quidditch,’ Ronald stated yesterday evening. ‘And the Cannon’s seem like the perfect place for me. I have enjoyed every moment working in the Auror Corp. but know that my passion lies elsewhere. It’s time for a new adventure.’

Only time will tell if Mr Weasley has what it takes to up the chances of the Cannon’s winning the league this year. Fans are sceptical that he does not have the skills required for such an adventurous career change and that his Auror skills are not transferable to the hoops. Speaking from personal experience, Mr Weasley is lacking in the save department. Let's hope his confidence can help him win their first game of the season against league favourites, the Falmouth Falcons.

* * *

**‘Chosen One Engaged to Childhood Sweetheart’**

_ August 31st 2000 -Reporter Betty Braithwaite _

Rumours have been circulating for months about the secret lives of two of the Wizarding World's most public figures and what they get up to in their private lives. But, this morning, sources have confirmed that the Chosen One, Harry Potter has popped the question to his childhood sweetheart Ginevra Weasley.

The couple, who are usually very secretive about their private lives, were seen celebrating in Diagon Alley late yesterday evening, have been together since their days at Hogwarts before the end of the Second Wizarding War, taking only a brief hiatus when Mr Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio were marked as Wanted by the Ministry. Since their graduation from Hogwarts 3 years ago, the couple have been seen together on several occasions; including the Ministry Charity Balls, quiet dinners at restaurants and other fundraising events.

Although we are unsure of the details of the proposal, sources close the couple have confirmed that it was small and private and that the ring he gifted the young Miss Weasley is fit for a princess. We here at the Prophet hope to be able to gain more details soon as we are sure that the wedding planning will be in full swing by this time next week.

_ Turn to page 10 for a full eye-witness account of their celebrations. _

* * *

‘ **Case of the Century; Fenrir Greyback brought to Trial’**

_ January 7th 2001 - Reporter Dennis Creavey _

Newest Ministry DMLE prosecutor, Draco Malfoy, causes a storm at his first public trial.

Fenrir Greyback, high ranking Death Eater afflicted with Lycanthropy, was sentenced today in front of a full Wizengamot court. Greyback, who has spent the last 4 years hiding across parts of Northern Europe, was said to be one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s most powerful weapons, being used to sow the seed of unrest among the lycanthropic population of Great Britain for over 20 years. His dangerous and despicable method of attacking and turning young witches and wizards, most commonly under the age of 5, was used both as a tool, to ensure the growth of his own pack and a punishment, for those who had angered or offended both himself and the Dark Lord.

In the quickest move to trial since the end of the war, Greyback was brought to court only 5 short days after his capture by a team led by the Head Auror himself, Harry Potter, having heard multiple rumours that Greyback had been sighted in a village not far from Venice, Italy. Charged with numerous counts of murder, intent to attack, intent to purposefully spread lycanthropy and treason, among other things, Greyback was said to be looking at 35 years in Azkaban. Starting at 9am this morning, the trail, led by prosecutor Draco Malfoy, was wrapped up in only 5 hours.

Malfoy, who joined the Ministry in the new year with intent to work as a court appointed defendant, has not been seen in the public eye outside of his charity work since receiving his Order of Merlin in 1999. In an interview with this publication in the same year he made it clear that he did not have intentions to join the Ministry at that time, however it would appear that his mind has been changed and we have to be thankful for that.

Minister Shacklebolt assigned the case to Mr Malfoy with the view that it would be cut and dry; not realising that Mr Malfoy was to make it his mission to ensure that the public were never threatened by Greyback again.

In a surprising move, Mr Malfoy petitioned the Wizengamot for the dementor's kiss, a punishment that has not been used since Minister Shacklebolt assumed office. In an impassioned speech Mr Malfoy explained to the court that he himself has been ‘tortured and demeaned’ by Greyback and that he was determined to ensure that ‘he [Greyback] was no longer able to terrorise the great nation that we are trying to rebuild and that young witches and wizards can go to sleep knowing they are safe in their own beds’. The Wizengamot only deliberated for half an hour before the verdict was read out to the courts; a dementors kiss to be presided over by Minister Shacklebolt and Prosecutor Draco Malfoy.

In an unusual public outcry, lycanthropy charities and human right activists have welcomed the verdict, stating that Mr Malfoy’s petition for a harsher sentence was deserved and that the punishment fit the crimes that the Death Eater committed on the community for over 30 years. In a statement outside of the courtroom, Mr Malfoy told the press, ‘I welcome the verdict that was announced and hope that this serves as a warning to all those willing to push the boundaries of our laws to such despicable lengths. Do I think that the dementors kiss is a horrific punishment? I do. However, in this instance, and with Greyback being the last of a murderous and vindictive group, I know that it was the right thing to do to protect our world.’

Will we be seeing more of Mr Malfoy inside of the courtroom as a prosecutor? Only the cases that come will tell us where within the field of magical law his talent lies, but one thing is for certain - he is a man not to be reckoned with.

* * *

‘ **Brightest Witch of her Age playing the Quidditch Field- Bulgarian Bon Bon Viktor Krum seen with Hermione Granger’**

_ June 16th 2001 - Reporter Parvati Patil _

Hermione Granger, well loved public figure and one third of the Golden Trio, seems to have found herself something to play with other than the laws of our great nation.

Since her very public split from other Golden Trio member Ronald Weasley, Miss Granger’s love life, or lack thereof, has been kept under wraps by all who know her. But it would seem that her luck is changing as she was seen out and about with famous international Quidditch Star, Viktor Krum.

Now, for all of those not in the know when it comes to Miss Granger’s love life, this is not the first time that she has fallen for the dark and handsome Bulgarian Seeker. No, in fact in her fourth year at Hogwarts, the year of the infamous Triwizard Tournament where Krum was also a contestant, an unlikely friendship and seeming relationship was struck between the two of them.

Sources close to this reporter have told me that their ‘friendship’, although spanning hundreds of miles, has not diminished and the two have been corresponding ever since. It is my assumption that Krum is the one who comforted Hermione after her break-up with Ronald Weasley, now a famous Quidditch star himself, and now that Miss Granger has made a successful career for herself and is moving up the ladder within the Ministry, it would seem now is the perfect time for them to now fan the flames of the spark that the ignited so long ago.

Viktor Krum has recently been in the country more than ever, what with the friendly prelims for the Quidditch World cup approaching and his secret, not so secret, conversations with some of this country's greatest teams; including Puddlemere United. What would make Krum want to live in a country he himself has admitted he is not fond of? Could the lure of the Brightest Witch of her age now be too much for him? This reporter hopes that Miss Granger has finally found a man to occupy her time other than the three she currently lives with.

* * *

**‘Winsley? Brother and Sister Quidditch Players selected for the England Team’**

_ February 23rd 2002 - Reporter - Special Sports Correspondent Lee Jordan _

England Quidditch Team for the 2002 World Cup Announced.

With the preparations for the Summer Quidditch World Cup being held in Japan well under way, the English Quidditch federation has announced their team for the games and in a move that has been welcomed by fans across the country have announced that their two headlines players are the redheaded siblings that we have all grown to love.

Ginerva Weasley, fiance of Harry Potter and chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, has been named Captain for the team, an honour that has never been given to someone so young. Her prowess on the field is well known and the federation are hoping that her name and reputation alone will be enough to strike fear into the hearts of the International Quidditch field. And Ronald Weasley, member of the Golden Trio and keeper for the Chudley Cannons, was the second member of the team to be announced in a shock release from the EQF this morning.

Other team members include Bradley Webber (Falmouth Falcons) and Alysia Chambers (Puddlemere United) completing the chaser positions, Justin Pringle (Puddlemere United) and Jordan Bole (Wimbourne Wasps) filling the beater positions and Totshill Tornados Seeker Cho Chang completing the team.

With such a young and vibrant line up for this year's tournament, the hope is that England will be able to push through the opening rounds, something that has not been done since the 1982 Brazil World Cup, where they narrowly missed the finals after a devastating defeat to Russia. Fans look forward with interest to see what will become of this year's team.

_ For an up close look at the teams stats over the last two leagues turn to page 5. _

* * *

‘ **Ministry Reforms - Turn over at the top’**

_ July 19th 2002 - Reporter Dennis Creavey _

In a statement this week made by Minister Shacklebolt, the inner workings of the Ministry have been struck to the core by the new appointments made to their top three Departments. Over the last few years, Minister Shacklebolt has made it clear that the practises the Ministry undertakes are remnants of an ancient time of magic and that he was not impressed with the way the government continues to be run. Of course, there are many Ministers who have made the same claim when running for office only to retract their statement and continue to work the same way, without making detrimental changes to the systems that we all live and work by.

However, Minister Shacklebolt appears to have been true to his words and the shake up in his departments brings hope that fresh change is on the way.

His first appointment was to make Harry Potter, current Head of the Auror Corps, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, replacing Derrick Robards. Robards had only been in the seat for four years and in his time had done nothing to change the practices of such an important pillar of the government. Mr Potter has since announced that he is ‘excited for the opportunity to make a difference’ and that he is ‘already aware of the members of the community who are eager to follow him into the future of governance.’ 

Minister Shacklebolt's second appointment was to make Miss Hermione Granger Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. In a strange move for such a department, Miss Granger was not heading a sub-division and so is new to leadership. Over the last 5 years, Miss Granger has made great headway in her goal to change the ways that the Wizarding World looks at it’s magical creatures. She has already secured a peace-treaty with the centaurs, rewritten the laws for the rights of those infected with Lycanthropy and has made it illegal to employ a House Elf without a written contract of law and a decent wage set by the government. There are some in the wizarding world that hope that Miss Granger's new appointment will go a long way to change the lives of many of our country's magical creatures.

Finally, and most controversially, Minister Shacklebolt appointed current DMLE prosecutor Draco Malfoy as Head of the Department of Mysteries. Having only been a member of the Ministry of Magic for just under two years, this is a surprise move in more ways than one. Some would say that the appointment of Mr Malfoy as Head Unspeakable comes with its own challenges, particularly surrounding his tumultuous past and the fact that record shows he is the owner of a Dark Mark, the only person outside of Azkaban to possess one. Unfortunately, both Minister Shacklebolt and Mr Malfoy were unavailable for comment about the appointment.

This call for change is a turning point for our Government, one that has not been since since the end of the first Wizarding War and we, the people, can only hope that the appointment of such young war heroes will aid the Ministry in their fight against evil and injustice. Of course, there are those in the community that are dubious about such appointments, calling out against the nepotism of the situation now that the Ministry is, effectively, being led primarily by ex-members of the disbanded vigilante group The Order of the Phoenix. Within the next few weeks Minister Shacklebolt intends to outline the changes his new heads will be making and what it means for the public at large.

_ For an in-depth look at the careers of the new ministry members, turn to page 10 _ .

* * *

‘ **Granger gone cuckoo? Golden Trio member seen at the Janus Thickey Ward’**

_ August 20th 2002 - Reporter Rita Skeeter _

Miss Hermione Granger, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and member of the Golden Trio, was spotted yesterday at St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. 

Hardly ever seen outside of the Ministry for Magic, Miss Granger was spotted walking the streets opposite the hospital late last week and, somewhat shiftily, made her way inside. It was in the hospital, my sources report, that Miss Granger was seen heading up the Janus Thickey Ward, the ward responsible for long and short-term memory loss. Now, some of you may wonder what our Golden Girl was doing when she clearly does not have a memory loss issue? And if she did, what a danger she would pose to her department? Well, I am here to tell you, dear readers, that Miss Granger does not indeed have memory loss, but was seen visiting a Mind Healer on the ward.

Mind Healing, a precarious and unstable branch of magic, has been used by many throughout the years to work through problems in an unstable mind, particularly in the cases of out of control magic and hallucinogenic seer episodes. Both of these afflictions are deeply troubling for anyone of the magical community and there have been reports of historic cases where said witches or wizards were institutionalised when their mind-healer was unable to cure them?

Was Miss Granger visiting a friend? Was Miss Granger going to see a mind-healer about her concerns for someone else? Or was Miss Granger going to visit a mind healer for herself? Has the new appointment as Head of Department become too much for her to handle already? Has the trauma of her past caught up with her?

I am unsure, dear readers, of the answers to these questions, but there is something I am sure of. We all must keep a close eye on Miss Granger for fear that her...episodes...will affect the way she performs for this great nation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be lovely to say that Hermione's life was all fun and games, lovely to say that she would have it easy now that she had helped to defeat evil - but nothing is ever lovely.

_ Tick-tock-tick-tock. _

Despite the number of people rushing past, Hermione’s eyes were fixed on the clock on the grey wall in front of her. Everything beyond the round face, it’s black and white lines taunting her, was a blur. Doors opened and closed around her, producing a whirlwind of activity; witches and wizards in lime robes running here and there, memo’s flying above her head, trollies carted before her, but she was unable to focus on anything but the second hand that seemed to spell her ending. Even her heart has begun to beat in time to the incessant tick of the clock, the blood rushing through her body like an endless traitor to the system she now feared life had become. And it pained her, to think this way, to think that after everything she had done and become, that this would be the end of her.

The war had left them struggling, her struggling, to breathe. The pressure on them to become what the world wanted of them had been intense, so intense that there had been moments when she swore on giving up. Harry had retreated in on himself, the only person able to drag him out of a cycle of self-hurt was Ginny. Hermione had felt herself lucky that she had Ron, her own Weasley to help her, until she realised it was her helping him. He became a loose canon of anger at everyone around him, flinching at loud noises and exploding at the people he loved the most. It had been their split that had caused the air to flood her lungs once more. For the first time since the battle, she had felt the fresh air and the distance she needed.

Now, five years after the war, Hermione had thought that she was on the right path, going in the right direction to places she could only have dreamed of. She had built herself a career, maintained friendships that society told her she should have grown apart from; she was the woman that 11 year old Hermione Granger would not recognise. Of course, it is always at your highest when you have the furthest to fall, and the fall came too soon and too fast.

The first nightmare she had didn’t seem out of the ordinary. She had suffered badly with nightmares since the Battle of Hogwarts, all four of them had at first. Ron would throw himself awake crying about the Horcrux and Fred, Draco tossing and turning, his right hand clutched around his left forearm as if he could unbrand himself and Harry would sit and cry against his headboard, weeping for the childhood he would never have. Hermione; she saw images of fire and smoke, a body in a giant's arms, the cries of helpless people; and although they had lost their frequency over time, they would return to her. Usually they would come after a stressful day at work when she had argued with the Wizengamot for hours over new beast legislation, or they came during May, when her body seemed to remember the Battle as if it had only been yesterday. 

So when she awoke one frigid February night, drenched in cold sweat, her eyes flooded with visions of the darkness, she had just sighed, poured herself a glass of water and had turned over to let herself fall back into the territorial waters of sleep. And that should have been the end of it, no need to bring it up over breakfast with the three men that she cohabited with, no need to dwell on the lingering smell of ash in her nostrils - a return to waking and normal life for someone who had fought so young.

Except, it would seem there would no longer be a normal for Hermione Granger.

The nightmares increased in frequency, at first a few times a week and before long she could not go a night without crying awake and covered in cold sweat. It would not have bothered her so much until they became rapidly more lucid and terrifying. The smoke clung to the curls of her hair, the body in the giant's arms rotting and reanimated, crawling towards her in the courtyard, her own face in the mirror as she watched Greyback over her writhing body. And if she thought it could not get any worse, Hermione started to dream of things that had never happened. She began to see her loved ones perish before her eyes, her parents' memories never restored, Ron flailing in pain in the Department of Mysteries, Draco holding her back as she watched her everyday life crumble around her. She would jump awake at night, a scream torn from the depths of her throat as her bedroom door was flung open by someone who had heard her. 

At first, Harry, Ron and Draco would come rushing in, pulling her back to reality and grounding her in ways only they could understand, having spent so long having to ground themselves. Their faces flooded with worry, their hands shaking atop of her skin as they dried her tears and settled her back down. Soon, they started to take turns watching over her, clinging to her as she slipped slowly in and out of consciousness, fretting as she was only able to get an hour of sleep a night while the visions plagued her sleeping.

Before long, they had called a house meeting and it was then that the first ‘incident’ happened. They had been talking to her gently, like she was damaged goods, too soft and fragile to be taken seriously. It had angered her, the way they wanted to wrap her in cotton wool and hold her until everything got better. She had fought evil, stared it in the face and hadn’t backed down - to be told now that she was unable to cope was nothing less than heartbreaking. She had tried to tell them, tried to get them to listen to her as she told them she didn’t want to take a sabbatical from work, how her work was important to her and that so many people relied on her. But, of course, Harry and Ron had argued vehemently, they knew better, they could see she was struggling and they would solve everything for her. It was then that everything had gone black.

She awoke 6 hours later in St Mungo’s, advanced diagnostic spells hanging over her bed and Draco, sitting beside her like a sentry. She had, for use of a better term, exploded. Her magic had become unstable and she had all but destroyed the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. 

And from there, she spiralled. The nightmares leaked from sleeping to waking, the ghosts of a past that didn’t belong to her clouded her at unplottable moments. At a family dinner at the Burrow she screamed when Harry stood and killed a faceless man without hesitation, in the middle of a meeting with a client she collapsed under the pressure of a Cruciatus curse flung at her as she ran from a burning building. The ‘explosions’ became a daily occurrence; her desk, her paperwork, her mirror. And she started to see people, apparitions wandering at the edges of her vision; Sirius, Remus, Mad-Eye. She couldn’t even get through a coffee with an old friend without her magic ripping through her, scalding her fingertips and causing her muscles to contract painfully.

Hermione had become what she had always feared; a recluse. An open-ended sabbatical from work, unavoidable in cases of uncontrollable magic. Minimal sleep and without the energy to eat, she had become painfully thin plagued by a near constant headache, cold sweats, hot flushes and random narcoleptic apparition so frequent that she had to be warded into the house during the night. 

‘Miss Granger?’ a shrill voice like chalk on a blackboard echoed throughout the waiting room. Hermione looked to the woman who had walked in, her lime green robes luminescent against the grey walls of the ward. ‘Healer Amstrad will see you now.’

As Hermione rose from the uncomfortable chair gingerly and padded her way across the tile flooring, she prayed for good news to a God that she had no place believing in. In a strange and frightening way, this seemed like her last chance for answers, her last chance for peace.

The office she entered was clean, a dazzling white compared to the dull grey of the waiting room. It was unlike any of the offices she had sat in before and knew that it was designed to keep her calm, the large window streaming in the London late autumn sun, the vibrantly green plant in the corner, perky in its temporal home. 

‘Please, take a seat Miss Granger,’ came a kind voice from the corner of the room. As Hermione sat down in the mauve armchair opposite the desk, still familiarly uncomfortable as all hospital chairs are, she took in Healer Amstrad’s appearance. 

Her face was round and welcoming, but she had a stern brow, something Hermione was sure she put to good use of Trainee Healers. Her lime green robes were undone, revealing a smart white blouse and black pencil skirt combination, something that had Hermione guessing that this Healer was not a pureblood witch. As she sauntered over to sit behind the desk, Hermione noticed that she wore tall stilettos, probably cushioned with excessive comfort charms for a days work. As she poised herself on the edge of her desk chair, Hermione came to the conclusion that she did not like this woman and that whatever was about to be discussed, it was not looking to be in her favour.

‘I have to tell you Miss Granger,’ Healer Amstrad began with a sad smile as she placed her hands on the desk between them, ‘that I do not have good news for our meeting today.’

‘Oh,’ said Hermione. Internally, she cursed herself for her lack of profound language at that moment. It was as if her mind had already expected the words that flew out of the welcoming and stern woman and accepted them without a fight. 

‘Having looked over your tests, I am unable to find a cause for the majority of your symptoms.’

‘Majority?’ Hermione asked, clinging to the flickering spark of hope that was threatening to extinguish itself in every passing moment.

‘If it were just lucid nightmares you were experiencing, we could administer a course of potions to delay the issue, or ask you to frequent a mind-healer on a regular basis. At this point however, with the uncontrollable bursts of magic that you appear to be experiencing, the visions you have described and the random apparation, our options are limited.’

‘Options,’ she repeated slowly, feeling as if she were on a terrible life-time movie that her mother would watch.

‘Having spent some time observing your magical core tests, it is clear that your core is depleting at a rapid rate. I would be surprised if you had any magic left by the end of the year.’

‘Magic left? I’m losing my magic?’

‘Yes, Miss Granger.’

The numb feeling started in her cheeks and spread through her limbs fast, the feeling of falling present even as she sat rigid on the horrible, squeaky armchair in an office in the middle of London. 

‘I will admit that it is rare, there are only a few cases of actual magical loss reported and none have ever been caught before the loss has occurred. Unfortunately, it is clear however that it is happening.’

‘How did it happen?’ she asked, her own voice sounding far away.

‘The only recorded cases show a great traumatic event as the cause and..’

‘So are you telling me that the torture I endured has robbed me of my magic?’ she interrupted, angry that this would be another thing stolen from her at the hands of Malfoy Manor.

‘I’m sorry Miss Granger, but I do not think that. The traumatic events reported are usually within weeks of the magic loss beginning, you only started to feel the effects of it months ago. Your torture was now years prior to this, too far away for it to have this profound an effect on your magical coe. ’

‘Then what do you suggest?’ Hermione asked more quickly, her heart fluttering against her ribcage.

‘I don’t have any suggestions, Miss Granger. It has been recorded on your file as...unexplained.’

‘Unexplained?’ she repeated. ‘Unexplained?’ she said again, her voice rising in anger. ‘How can something be unexplained? I am losing my magic!’

Healer Amstrad took a breath and plastered that sad smile back across her face, mocking Hermione with her faux calm and endearing personal nature.

‘Miss Granger, our next and only course of action is to discuss your palliative magical care.’

‘Palliative,’ Hermione repeated slowly as if she was worried she had misheard.

‘Yes, the care you will receive once the magic within you has withered.’

‘’Palliative is end of life care Healer Amstrad. I am a muggle-born, I am more than capable of retreating back into the muggle world if that is what is required of me,’ she spoke dangerously softly, as if she knew that an explosion were imminent.

‘Once your magical core is depleted Miss Granger, the body that was once host to magic will begin to waste away. You may be muggle-born but the magic has always flowed through your blood. Without it, your body will be unstable and you will…’ she trailed off, searching the face opposite for signs of understanding. 

‘I’m dying,’ Hermione breathed, the rush of air leaving her parted lips like a gentle spring breeze. ‘Is that what you are telling me Healer Amstrad?’ she asked, desperate for the confirmation she did not seek.

‘Yes, Miss Granger. I am so sorry to tell you this, but you are dying.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this taking so much longer than I had anticipated and apologies for the down turn in events. As always I will try to keep on top of everything and fail miserably. If you like this, please let me know - I live for your comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hermione is shattered by her news, she reflects on everything that has changed in all their lives. But when it comes time to tell them all what is happening to her, Draco arrives; a Draco she has never seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the wait on this chapter. Since lock down started I had forgotten how much my work life bleeds into my real life and going back to work has left me with a lot let time than I ever anticipated. But right now, I will try to pledge to change that!  
> I hope you enjoy.

Hermione walked home in a blur of noise and colour; the surrounding of the city overloading her senses with the idea of security and sensibility. The permissive greys of stone and concrete suppressive and falling in on her like her own ever slowing heartbeat. But her eyes could not see what the city told her; they were blind to the oppressive beauty around her as she took step after step, her footfalls silent as she wandered the streets, unaware of where her feet were taking her.

For someone who had faced her own mortality more times than she could count, Hermione had never really thought about it. In those reckless moments of the past where she had stared into the eyes of death, she had always known it was the right thing to do. To die for someone you love, to die to save the world, to die for the betterment of others, that's the way she had always envisaged it would have been. ‘The end of your life is all about being brave enough to face the unknown,’ she has overheard her Grandmother tell her own mother as she stood outside the hospital room at the age of 9. Hermione had clung to that during their months in the tent, that this was just another unknown situation that she could walk into and not walk out of. Quick and thoughtless; like falling asleep. But now, snuffed out in the prime of her life - burned down, slow and endless like the proverbial candle, waiting for the end that was always just over the horizon, the walk was all she could seem to do to keep herself from breaking down.

Before long she found herself walking through the front door of Grimmauld Place. The street outside was alive with the bustle of the afternoon, the distant gleeful shrieks of children playing in the square, the rumbling of cars behind her. She closed the door and fell back against it, the old, stained oak creaking under her weight. Letting her head fall back and closing her eyes, she breathed in the musky scent of the old Edwardian house mixed with the aroma of life she had become so used to. The air was full of the citrus tea that Draco insisted they drink every morning, something they used to groan about but now she savoured the sharpness on the edge of her tongue as she watched the sun rise in the square out of the window. The walls permeated with the scent of leather Quidditch gloves, the ones that Hermione found so often abandoned on the stairs or the landing as the boys haphazardly stripped them off after a sweaty pick up game. The distinct heaviness of the sandalwood spray that Harry was so fond of and no matter how many times Draco had told him it was for teenagers or Ron joked that he must bathe in it, he used it religiously. 

It was quiet. It wasn’t long until the work day ended. Maybe Harry would take Ginny out for dinner - there was a new Morrocan Themed Restaurant that had opened up in Horizont Alley that they had been dying to try. Maybe Ron was off seeing a new girl this evening? He often had a date on Friday night, bringing back to Grimmauld the string of blondes he had been so fond of since their amicable split all those years ago. Her thoughts strayed to Draco, wondering if was paying a visit to his favourite bookstore? What genre was he stuck on this week? They probably wouldn’t be home for hours and so she made her way slowly up the stairs, into her bedroom and into the bed, laying on her side and silently staring at the wall opposite.

‘Granger?’ 

It felt like hours until she heard them return, the hollow rooms filled with the deep baritones of three men happy to be home from work for the weekend. She had blinked slowly as their murmurs about dinner and how much beer they had left drifted up the landing. The dusky pink wall in front of her seemed to sigh as someone turned on the wireless and the laughing over the top of someone's dreadful singing reached her ears. She had not moved, not turned, not even adjusted her pillows. She did not care to look when she heard his voice at her open door.

‘Granger?’ he repeated, his voice taking on a sing-song quality. He always called her by her last name, something that it seemed he could not break the habit of. But where she used to loathe the sneer that accompanied those syllables, she had grown to love the way the letters fell out of his mouth like a prayer.

‘Granger, do you want anything to eat?’

She laid silent and still as his voice washed over her. She tried to process whether she wanted him to think she was asleep and leave her alone, or if she did not have the energy or the will to move.

Tell him, her brain screamed at her, tell them all. But how could she? How could she open her mouth and say the words that had been repeated to her while she sat in the bright office in St Mungos? How could she show them the pamphlets they had thrust towards her? How could she take their hands and explain that it was over for her now?

‘I thought you were asleep, lying there so silently.’ Draco’s face came into view as he came around the end of her bed. ‘Are you up for coming downstairs for a bit?’ he asked, his eyebrows furrowed and smile tight. Hermione shook her head slightly and looked back to the wall, hoping that he would leave, worried that the tears would come if he stayed any longer and that she would not be able to keep the secret anymore.

She felt the bed dip by her stomach and looked to see him perched upon her comforter, staring at the same bit of wall, his face pensieve.

‘Are you thinking of changing the colour?’his voice was too bright, fake, he didn’t want to treat her delicately but knew he had to. The pity in the depth of his eyes made her feel sick.

‘Everything’s all wrong!’ She muttered. 

There was only silence after that, the impending conversation pushing between the two of them like built up pressure in a fault line. He would ask how it went; he always did. She would lie and say there was hope, he would know there wasn’t! Draco Malfoy could read her like a book!

From the moment he stepped into Grimmauld Place at the age of 16 bearing the Dark Mark and a parchment full of plans, he has been the one person who seemed to know her inside and out. At first, there had been so much animosity between the young group that working together had been nigh on impossible! The hatred built among years of name calling and misconceptions was a wall that could not be broken with a few family style dinners and successful order raids! But before long, they had banded together under the same goal of defeating evil - and Draco and her had become the brains of the operations. Months of libraries and secret owls at Hogwarts had built a bond that the other two members of the Golden Trio found difficult; at first to accept, and then to break. Hermione remembered so clearly the torment after Dumbledore’s death, the separation of the year in the tent and then the relief of being reunited at the battle. And since then he had done nothing but look out for her, it was another reason she had always felt so lucky; born an only child but ending up with three brothers to watch over her.

Over the years, the four of them had become an unlikely group of friends - with each of them having something with Draco the others could not. Draco finally gave Ron a decent chess partner, the two of them competitive and sly in their own ways. Although they still referred to each other using last names, there was a silent smile they shared when they sat across from each other separated by nothing but a checkerboard. Harry was able to give Draco a real run for his money when it came to Quidditch, the both of them so naturally talented and no more alive than they were when they were atop their brooms. And, it seems unsurprisingly, Hermione shared so many of Draco’s interests that most evenings, before everything had started to fall apart, they could be seen huddled together reading some sort of paper or book that the other two could not bear.

‘How was your appointment?’ He asked. 

‘I would rather not talk about it, if that’s okay?’ She whispered back, as if scared that her dwindling magic could hear the lie slipping from between her lips.

‘Okay!’ He registered defeat, his hand moving to rest at the top of her thigh, his skin warm and comforting. Another great thing about Draco, he never pushed for answers, especially those he knew he would not like.

She focused on trying to draw the energy from his fingertips into her own being. They had sat like this so many times over the last few weeks that the feel of his hands had become second nature to her. Ginny had mentioned it once, telling her how touchy feely the two of them were, scoffing at the way they were drawn to one another, comparing them to magnets. At the time, Hermione had scoffed right back, but since had been aware of the amount he supported her through the day; a hand on her leg, a support on her lower back, a touch to her shoulder as he passed her tea.

‘Draco,’ she said, feeling the pressure of a conversation in her chest. He didn’t move, his hand stoic as ever. ‘Do you think I am insane?’

It had been a question going around and around in her brain since she had sat in the healers office. They seemed to be unable to tell her why this was happening, why she was losing her life, and somewhere deep inside her she had started to think she was punishing herself. There had always been this secret part of her that festered the guilt she felt about the war, about her parents, and so the idea that the universe was punishing her seemed remotely apt.

‘Insane?’ he questioned, always wanting to clarify before he stepped over the threshold of a worded battle, the eternal Slytherin.

Hermione sighed, ‘Yes, insane. I feel like - people - must think that I’m making it up.’

He took a long pause as he sat beside her, turning his head away to stare at the small stain on her wallpaper that she wished she had been able to get rid of. His breathing was slow and steady, his body calm, but she could see the slight furrow between his eyebrows as he tried to formulate a response.

‘Granger,’ he breathed. ‘There is no one in this house, in this world, as sane as you are.’ He let out a small laugh as he turned his head to look at her, his eyes softening. ‘Whatever is happening to you, IS happening to you and if anyone wants to doubt that or fight that - I will fight them every step of the way.’ A small smile graced his lips and her eyes followed their movement, reminding her of a moment in her childhood where her father pointed out a shooting star and even after it had gone, she sat for hours, watching the same spot.

‘Do I need to fight your healer?’ he asked, a laugh hidden along his tone; a laugh that died in the silence it met. And the answer pressed at her, clawing from the inside to get out into the open, trying with all it’s might to become a fact between them.

‘Draco,’ she whispered, not meeting his eyes, fearful of the change his face would make when she admitted it. ‘The healer said...she told me that…’ She swallowed, the lump ever growing in her throat. ‘They think….they know that...I’m dy-’

‘There you two are!’ exclaimed Ron as he interrupted her, the tension in the room breaking as Draco turned to face the red head whose hands were full of beer and Hermione turned over. ‘Harry was shouting for you Malfoy, asking if you wanted a beer, but there was no answer and I was hoping you had finally popped your clogs!’ he laughed as Hermione’s insides tightened uncomfortably.

Ron’s smile faltered as his laugh died in the silence that followed, just like Draco’s had done not minutes before.

‘What’s going on?’ he questioned, his eyes darting between the two of them.

‘Granger had an appointment today - I was trying to convince her to tell me what happened.’

‘Any luck?’ Ron shot back as he bounced onto the bed next to the both of them, passing a beer over the top of her prone body. Draco took it and chinked with Ron as they continued their conversation.

‘Not so far, but I don’t think you will be able to do any better than me Weasley!’

‘Slander Malfoy!’ he half-shouted, his free hand coming up to clutch at his chest. ‘You have wounded me and I will never recover.’

‘Recover from what?’ came the cheerful voice of Harry from the corridor. Hermione saw the black nest of curls first as his head poked around the door, then the sparkling green eyes as he broke out in a grin at the sight of them arguing over her.

‘Malfoy is being so rude to me!’ Ron pouted, his lips jutting out.

‘Oh yes! Get the Boy-Who-Lived to come and save you again Weasley!’ Draco laughed, Hermione and her issues forgotten while they spoke to each other. Harry dropped down next to Ron, spreading out on her bed spread. He looked at the two of them while they continued to bicker, flinging half-hearted insults at one another, but his hand sneakily found hers and gave her a little squeeze.

It was often like this on days after appointments, they would harass her until she cheered up. Sometimes, on the days where she couldn’t get out of bed because of the headaches or the exhaustion, they would join her, talking and laughing. Initially Hermione had thought that they were doing it to try to get her back to normal, trying to coax her out of herself and get her back to the Hermione they all knew and loved in their own way. As time had dragged on and her condition had worsened, she hoped for something more; hoped that they did this to just be with her. 

‘I’m thinking Indian!’ Harry stated loudly, bringing Hermione out of her dazed thoughts.

‘Potter, you always want Indian! I think you have a problem,’ Draco admonished.

‘I wouldn’t mind an Indian, I love Indian,’ Ron backed Harry up, fiercely loyal even over the food choices for the Friday night.

‘You will do whatever he tells you to, Weasley.’ Draco sighed.

‘Plus, Ginny is coming over and she says she wants Indian too,’ Harry smiled Hermione’s way, probably trying to reassure her that she wouldn’t be the only girl all night - not that it ever bothered her.

‘Well - if Ginny is coming then how can I say no?’ Draco rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly! That poor girl, engaged to you and having to come over here while you spend time with all your housemates. I am scared for the future of your marriage!’

‘Come on now!’ Harry defended. ‘I can’t just kick you all out. You would give me puppy eyes for a week Malfoy! Anyway, we aren’t allowed to move in together until we are married apparently…’

‘Too right!’ interrupted Ron. ‘I don’t want her running around this place being...defiled!’

It was this that made Hermione laugh for the first time all day, the pressing matter at hand pushed to the back of her mind for a fraction. They all looked down at her, shocked.

‘Defiled!’ she repeated. ‘I am sure she would love it!’ she rasped over the howling laughter Harry and Draco had collapsed into.

‘Hermione!’ growled Ron, his ears as pink as the setting sun as Harry and Draco continued to laugh. ‘That’s my little sister!’

‘Well - she sounded awfully grown up the other day from what I heard coming from Harry’s bedroom!’ she added with a cheeky smile, ignoring the tight feeling in her chest and the ache overcoming her temple.

‘Hermione!’

It was Harry’s turn to blush like a beetroot and Ron punched him in the arm, the only person now hysterically laughing was Draco, who had to lift his hand to his eyes to wipe the tears that had gathered there.

‘You are good comedy value, Granger! I will always give you that.’

‘It’s not funny Malfoy!’ Ron shot at him; trying, and failing, to hide his own smile.

Hermione realised that she could not remember the last time they had all laughed like this, and deep down she knew that she missed it. The last few years with the three of them had been so carefree; they had finally got to live the lives of young adults, the lives they had missed when defending and protecting the wizarding world.

‘Right! Enough of this, I am starving,’ pouted Draco, doing his best impression of the boy snob he was brought up to be.

‘Fine,’ Harry agreed, standing and stretching. ‘I will make the call to the Indian, seeing as Ron always shouts and Draco is rude to them.’

‘How am I supposed to understand them when they talk so fast, honestly, it's ridiculous - also that was one time. You coming Granger?’ he asked as he and Ron also rose to their feet and headed towards the door.

‘Erm - yeah actually, I think I might!’ she said. If anything was going to distract her from her news for one night, it might just be this. 

Draco stopped where he was and turned to look at her, the biggest smile on his face. Maybe he hadn’t expected a reply, just asked out of sheer habit, but the look he gave her was enough to convince anyone that they were wanted.

‘I will be down in a minute, yeah.’ she continued. ‘I just want to put some comfies on’.

‘Yeah...great…’ he stuttered. ‘Not the one with the lambs on - they stain too easily and you are a messy eater.’

Hermione chuckled to herself as he walked out the door, a slight swing in his step. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she was actually hungry. As she put her feet to the wooden floor of the bedroom, however, an intense pain shot through her head and she grabbed her hair with her hands. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as the throbbing seemed to reach a breaking point and all she could think about was wanting to scream but terrified what might happen if she did.

But as soon as the pain had hit her, it was gone. Looking up, she tried to focus on the stain on the pink wall, the one that Draco was always so fond of pointing out, but she couldn’t seem to find it and the wall looked so much darker than it had a minute before. Worried about her eyesight, she shifted her gaze down to her hands, but couldn’t tell if anything was different. It was then that she heard the voice and her heart sunk.

‘It’s just not going to work.’ 

Her head shot up to look to the end of her bed, where the painfully familiar voice had come from and in the moment she laid her eyes on the figure there, her mouth went dry.

Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, his head in his hands. His fingertips were dug into his hair, his strangely long hair that hung to his shoulder, like he was on the edge of a breakdown. And he was shirtless. Just sitting there, wearing nothing but what looked like an old pair of tattered jogging bottoms.

‘I just think we should give up,’ he continued, his tone defeated.

‘Draco?’ she asked slowly, her voice low and confused, hoping he would turn around. But he didn’t. He lifted his head and sighed, the light from the open doorway reflected along his cheekbones showed him to be much bigger than she had remembered. Not that she had ever seen him without his shirt on, she decided that his clothes must really be well made to hide all of that muscle.

‘I know you think that there must be something left of him, hidden deep down. But I just don’t see how there could be Hermione.’ the sound of her name upon his lips struck her, echoing around the room and hitting her square in the chest. He had never used her name before. ‘The Harry you knew is gone.’ The conversation started to scare her.

‘What are you talking about?’ She hadn’t meant for it to come out high and shaky, but the words fell from her before she could stop them. What she didn’t expect was for Draco to swing his head around and make eye contact with her, it was then that she audibly gasped in shock and flinched back towards the headboard of the bed.

As she stared into the face of Draco, the realisation hit her that this was not the Draco she knew. His eyes were sunken and face gaunt, as if he had not slept for weeks on end. His long hair fell into his eyes, something that Draco would abhor on a good day. But worst of all was the scar. A thin line that ran from the top of his forehead, over his left eye and down to his chin. It made him seem...dangerous.

‘Hermione? Are you okay?’ he asked, taking in her shocked appearance.

‘Draco? What happened to you?’ she whispered, trying to not offend him.

‘Hermione,’ he said her name slowly, reminding her of the way Healer Amstrad had spoken to her that morning - like she was something fragile. ‘Who won the war?’

It was such a strange question that she laughed, her face falling and chest collapsing under the absurdity of it.

‘Draco, what do you mean who won the war? Why does that matter?’

‘Hermione, after the war what happened to Harry?’

Hermione sighed and stood up, turning to stare at him incredulously.

‘I am not going to play your game, Draco. Whatever bet you have struck with the boys, leave me out of it please.’

‘Who are you talking to?’

Hermione’s eyes snapped to the door and she fell back against the wall, her palms touching the cold paintwork as her head screamed at her once more. She snapped her eyes shut, pinching them against light to try and alleviate the pain. When she opened them, Draco was standing at the door, in the clothes he was wearing when he had come to see her earlier in the evening, his face bemused as he watched her.

‘I heard you talking to someone,’ he said. ‘Who were you talking to?’

Hermione glanced to the end of her bed, the memory of a topless and scared Draco seared into her mind's eye. But all she could see was the folded back duvet and a pair of fluffy socks that she often kept there. And as she stared at Draco’s face, unsure of how to answer the question, all she could think about what the small scar of the man she had spoken to and what he meant when he asked her about the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is - chapter 3 all done and dusted. I hope you are all enjoying this new story - please let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls so much faster than expected when you are desperate to hold on. Hermione finds herself falling into a pit of madness, her illness surrounding her and the people she loves with fear and grief. What happens when her own image reaches out for help?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the slow update on this chapter, it took so much longer to form than I had anticipated. I am hoping to speed things up from now on, but you cannot trust me.

Of the many things that had happened in Hermione’s life up until this moment, she had always been able to tell the difference between dreams and reality. Such a distinction had been important when camping in the middle of nowhere, plagued by the memories of a necklace that did not belong to her. After the war, it was vital she knew how to keep her head in rooms full of people that put her on edge and the closer her illness came to defeating her, she needed to understand that the visions she was now privy to, were nothing more than the depletion of her own energy source. But now, it seemed that everything had changed as soon as the other Draco, as she had started to call him, had turned around at the end of her bed. It was as if his sudden appearance had sparked a cliff edge to appear, an edge that was getting closer by the day and speeding up by the minute. It soon became impossible to keep her secret any longer.

‘I think you need to go back to see a healer, Hermione.’ Harry sighed as she sat down at the kitchen table with them.

She had promised herself that she would tell them and had spent two weeks working up the courage to sit down her best friends and tell them the news. She had tried writing it down, making sure that she had everything she wanted to say on paper in case they interrupted her, but every time she sat with parchment and a quill she ended up staring blankly out of her window for hours on end. She had given up any hope of ‘practising’ their conversation because their near hourly watch over her had them walking into her room as she flustered trying to appear nonchalant. In the end, biting the bullet had been her last and only option and so, with tea prepared, she had called them into the vast, stone kitchen of Grimmauld Place to tell them words they were probably not expecting in a million years.

‘Actually, that’s kind of what I need to talk to you about,’ she settled on a response and looked between the three of them. ‘There will be no more healers.’ She swallowed and watched as the looks of confusion flooded their faces.

‘Have they found something? Is it better from here on out?’ Ron questioned. Hermione sighed and looked down to her tea cup, focusing on the soft swirling patterns of freshly made tea as she tried to come up with the right words to explain.

‘What happened at your last appointment?’ Draco’s drawl echoed off the walls, into the empty silence of her response. He did not look pleased, probably a side effect of many horrific family meetings in which he was told what to expect and not to argue. His eyebrows were turned down towards the sparkling silver ovals he had for eyes, his nose flared as he tried to control himself.

‘Hermione,’ Harry’s soft whisper called her to look up and meet his eyes. ‘You’re kind of scaring me, what’s going on?’

‘There will be no more healers because...there is nothing left that they can do.’ she answered slowly. ‘The tests show that there should be nothing wrong with me and the trauma I suffered in the war gives no indication to what is happening.’

‘There can’t just be no answer!’ pushed Ron, his exasperation evident.

‘What the tests do say,’ she carried on, ‘Is that my core is dying. My magic is dying.’

Once the words had left her, she felt a stone drop into the pit of her stomach, the pity that she felt for herself settling into the depths of her being. She stared straight ahead, trying not to think about the way their brains were turning over the information; how quickly they would understand, how soon they would ask for a time frame.

‘Your magic is dying?’ Harry asked first, confusion evident in his tone. She knew the feeling, before the healer had told her, she had never even heard of such a thing. ’Can't they give you something?’

‘It’s not like that,’ she sighed again, shaking her head softly. ‘Once it starts to deplete without cause they...they can’t do anything...they…’

Without warning, Draco’s hand grasped hers, shocking her into silence. She met his gaze and felt the breath rush out of her lungs as if pulled by a vacuum. Draco’s eyes were filled with tears. The penny, it seemed, had dropped for him and he would be the first to ask.

‘How long?’ he whispered.

‘How long for what? No magic?’ Harry asked, loudly as his face moved from Hermione’s to Draco’s.

‘They are unsure how long it will take for my magical core to drain but...after that..’

‘After?’ Harry interrupted. ‘What’s after? I mean - it’s awful and I am going to help you through it. But after, we can help you go back to a normal life, you can stay with us and we can just…’

It was Ron who, this time, dropped his head into hands and a terrified whimper sounded from his mouth. Harry turned to him, his face wild and confused. It was only then that Hermione clocked the reason why she had been unable to comprehend the healer, and why Harry seemed dumb to the words that were uttered around the table. Once again, being muggleborn gave them the disadvantage in these situations. 

‘Harry,’ Hermione started softly, leaning forward, feeling as if she were about to tell a child that Santa did not exist ‘when a magical being loses its core, it is unable to sustain itself for very long. Some say days, some predict a few weeks; but their body just isn’t built to live without the one thing it has always had.’ It was her turn now for her eyes to fill with tears as the dawning realisation spread across Harry’s features; confusion turning to disbelief and settling on pain.

‘So then…’ Harry breathed, stopping himself at the most crucial moment, the four of them looking between the others as if the words were a poisonous gas. 

‘I’m dying,’ Hermione finished.

There was a silence that followed her words that even Hermione could not describe. Draco withdrew his hand to softly wipe away a lone tear that had escaped and run down his nose, Ron was silently sobbing into his hands and Harry was still staring at her, just staring.

‘Now I know that this is difficult,’ she pushed forward, trying to be the Hermione they relied on, ignoring the tears freely flowing down her face ‘But there are certain things I really need. I need you not to pity me, I need you to not tell anyone, and I need you to promise that you will not send me to one of the horrible palliative care places that the healers have suggested.’

‘Of course,’ Draco was the first to speak. ‘Of course we can do that! We will do anything we can.’

He looked across the table to Ron who had wiped his face on his sleeves, covering them in snot and looking a lot like a child. He was nodding along to what Draco was saying, his hand finding her shoulder and squeezing it. 

‘How do we…’ Ron started to question but Harry stood up suddenly, his chair falling behind him with a crash.

‘No!’ he said. 

‘Harry…’ Hermione tried to comfort him, but he turned on his heel and left the kitchen. She sat for a moment until she heard the sound of shoes being pulled on and, with difficulty, rose from her chair.

‘Granger, give him some time,’ Draco whispered, but she ignored his pleas and continued walking, using the wall to support herself as her lungs tried to manage the change in activity. As she wobbled into the hallway, Harry was pulling on his coat.

‘Harry, please don’t leave.’

His hand was on the old brass handle as she spoke, stopping himself as he lifted his head to stare at the dark green paint on the old wood. As she watched him stare, she tried to distract herself to stay standing, thinking of the day they chose that colour and how they laughed about Draco turning Grimmauld into a Slytherin dorm room.

‘I can’t Hermione,’ Harry finally murmured as he turned around to look her in the face.

‘You know that’s not true!’ she admonished him. ‘You can do anything!’

‘Not this! Not you!’

He was shaking his head repeatedly, knowing that no matter what he said, the answer from her would still be the same. She pushed herself towards him, standing mere inches away, taking his hands in hers. His skin was warm and flushed, he was shaking slightly.

‘There’s nothing that can be done.’ she smiled softly.

‘There must be! I must be able to find some experimental cure or programme or...just give me something...I need something!’ 

The tears were streaming down his face now and, looking at him, Hermione was given a flash of the broken boy from the war; the boy who screamed in the nights, cried at the drop of a hat and spent weeks in bed in the dark. He was the boy of the past staring into, yet another, bleak future.

‘Harry Potter, I do not want to spend what time I have left with you being poked and prodded and having questionably legal potions shoved down my throat. I just want to be with you, with you all. Okay?’ Lifting her hands to cup his face, she brushed her thumbs across his cheeks, letting him settle his weight into her as he slowly nodded and broke down. 

If Hermione had been smart, the way in which everyone referred to her, she would have looked at that moment and known that it was the beginning of the end for her. The breakdown of a friend at irredeemable news as the rest of her friends watched, the collapse of her legs out from under her as she held him to her body as she couldn’t physically stand any longer. If she has been smart she would have known that her days were about to become a blur of confusion and anxiety.

Within days, Harry, Ron and Draco had sat down with her and a healer to talk about what would happen as things grew progressively worse, they had organised their work schedules to ensure that there was always someone in the house with her and had stocked up on so many pain potions that the crates were piled in the hallway with nowhere else to put them. Hermione, for the first time in months, had felt thankful to them for their help and prepared for what was to hit her, but nothing could have prepared her for the dreams that hit back with full force.

In a matter of weeks images of horror had begun to flash through her mind uncontrollably, her body shaking so forcefully that her writing had become illegible and the pain potions only blurring the pain that emanate from her left temple. But worse than that, other Draco could be seen in her periphery so often that she did not feel confident enough to count the times his scarred face has turned to her and looked on, his full of confusion before he faded away in a blur.

‘It’s madness,’ she murmured softly one evening as she lay on the sofa, her head in Draco’s lap as he read her the newest publication of ‘Potions and Things’ as she watched the other Draco walk out of the door and fade from view.

‘Madness?’ Draco questioned back, putting the paper to one side and looking down at her. ‘What is, Granger? You’re hair?’

‘I see you everywhere Draco,’ she whispered as she scrunched her eyes against the pain that enveloped her head. ‘You, your scar, your long hair. I see it and I can’t stop. It’s madness, I’m going mad!’

‘I think you’re just tired,’ he replied with a soft smile as he carded his hands across her forehead and into her hair. ‘And it’s time for a potion,’ he smiled again as he lifted himself from under her, leaving her to drift off. 

When she awoke, Hermione was still alone and she noticed, rather quickly, that she was desperately thirsty. The room had grown dark, the lamps that had been falling low as she lay on Draco’s lap had all extinguished and, looking towards the window, noticed the lamp flicking in the street outside. As she lifted herself from the sofa she was pleased that there was no nausea, as there so often was when she stood up, and she moved through the house with an energy she had not felt for weeks.It was odd that Draco had not left her potion out for when she woke up and, deciding to grab one from a box, was surprised to find the hallway, as dark as the room she had just left, empty of boxes. She smiled to herself; after a week of arguing about the potions new home, she was glad to have won something from them. She moved quickly and quietly through the house, relishing in the silence, the peaceful darkness that was ebbing around her. It was only when she stepped into the kitchen that the feeling that something wasn’t quite right spread down her back, making the hairs on her neck stand. She had felt it many times, it was not a feeling that she would ever forget. 

‘Draco?’ she called out softly into the darkened kitchen. ‘Ron? Harry?’

There was no answer, and deciding that she was probably just being silly, she made her way to the glass cupboard. Harry always told her that she was overly paranoid when alone in Grimmauld Place, and if it was coming from him, then it must be true. No matter how much she convinced herself that Grimmauld was home, the lingering memories of the Order and a sallow-faced Sirius could not be removed from her mind's eye. Shaking her head, she opened the cupboard and sighed, seeing that there were no glasses. Not only was it empty but the shelves she could see were covered in a thick layer of dust. Hermione made a mental note to speak to the boys about their hygiene and cleaning routine as she made the decision to drink from the tap like a heathen. Laughing to herself, she thought about what her mother would say if she saw her using her hand as a cup; something she used to admonish her and her father for on a daily basis. Her father would always laugh and complain that as he usually washed up, he was just saving himself a job. A wave of sadness fell over her as she thought about their faces, the idea of them not knowing her once again enveloped her and a pang in her chest reminded her that they did not know their only daughter did not have long left. It was something that she had been avoiding thinking or talking about with anyone; it made no difference if they saw her or not, they had no idea who she was, but to end it this way felt so anticlimactic. 

Laying her hand on the kitchen tap, and turning it, the strange sensation of something not being right returned as the only thing that the tap emitted was a faint gurgle and a few drops of water. Hermuone furrowed her eyebrows and tried turning it again, putting it down to initial faulty piping in an incredibly old house, but the outcome remained the same. Slamming her hand onto the counter beside the sink, she hung her and head sighed. 

‘Draco!’ she shouted, waiting for an answer, her leg starting to jump impatiently. ‘Draco’ she shouted again, her head snapping up to stare at her own reflection in the darkened window above the sink. ‘The tap isn’t working!’

‘It won’t,’ his response came from somewhere behind her, the sound so effortlessly close that she jumped. The gravel of his voice shook her to her core and she watched as he slowly came into view next to her own reflection. As she made eye contact with him through the glass, she noticed how filthy it was, but not dirty enough to cover the scar that was visible across his face. Turning around quickly, her fingertips gripping the edge of the countertop, she eyed him up. His hair, that was pulled back into a messy bun at the top of his head, did not look overly clean, as if it had been run over with too many scourgify charms. With it pulled back away from his face, the bright pink of the offensive scar that marred his usually beautiful skin caused Goosebumps to erupt across her arms and hands. It was not deep, like the scars she had seen on Remus Lupin or Bill Weasley, it was not gnarly like the scars of Lavender Brown, but it was long and raised, eye-catching. Tearing herself away to look at him more closely; his casual overtly muggle jogging bottoms and jumper pairing made her feel uneasy. Her Draco would never be caught dead in jogging bottoms, even on a Friday evening drinking in the living room, it was something the boys endlessly teased him about - the whole image was both hard and soft, nonsensical and abrupt. He was looking at her as if he, too, was trying to figure her out.

‘Who are you?’ Hermione asked, her voice suddenly confident and sure, knowing that she would get to the bottom of this one way or another.

‘I’m still Draco,’ he started. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, unsure of how to take the taciturn answer he had provided. He obviously knew the reason for her mistrust. He may have said he was Draco but he did not sound like Draco. Her Draco had a drawl that could stop a train in its tracks, a voice that had soothed her to sleep for months now; this Draco’s voice was clipped and sudden, almost as if he only had a short amount of time to talk.

‘You look nothing like Draco,’ she said. Her eyes wandered over the rest of the kitchen and she noticed how dilapidated everything was. They had worked hard to procure a duck egg blue paint for this room, but it was still the musty magnolia of years past. The large wooden table was rotting and scratched and the ceiling looked moments away from caving in. ‘And this looks nothing like Grimmauld Place,’ she finished.

‘If I tell you everything now, you will not believe me and you will go back to wherever you came from and..’ he rushed, stopping himself and taking a breath, letting his shoulders fall. It was this that made her notice how thin he was, the slight muscle build that she was so used to was gone. ‘It’s just easier that you don’t understand until I can keep you here!’

‘Keep me?’ she shouted, her body filled with a dread unlike any she had felt before. ‘Keep me? I am not your prisoner!’ She had been a prisoner before, she thought, her hand moving up to brush the faint scar on her neck - only to find that she could not feel it anymore.

‘No, you are not.’ he nodded soberly. ‘One day soon, I hope you will be able to understand...but before that I need you to do something for me.’

She did not grace him with an answer, determined not to do anything for someone who was so clearly an imposter. She may be dying, may be losing everything about her that she thought was special, but she would not give into the demands of him.

‘Just stay strong, Hermione. We need you to be strong for this to work!’

‘Strong? You clearly have no idea who I am. I do not need you to tell me to be strong - I can handle myself thank you very much!’ Hermione spat at him, her lips curling vindictively as she stared at the boy whose eyes sunk and looked lost.

‘Whatever you think I mean by that - it’s not what you think.’ the other Draco continued, reaching out his hand in front of him in a gesture to placate her. 

‘Just stop!’ she shouted over his words. ‘I have had enough! Whatever you have done, stop it - send me back!’

‘Hermione - please…’

She closed her eyes against a sudden influx of pain that erupted in her temple. She could hear him shouting still as she pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and fell back against the cabinet. 

‘You don’t ever call me that!’ she shouted as she dug her fingernails into her scalp. 'Stop calling me that!’  
She could feel herself rocking, feel her muscles tighten against he pain as she screamed at him, trying to show him the strength she had even as she was blinded by the shooting in her brain.

‘Whoever you are, just leave me alone!’

And in an instant the pain was gone and someone had gripped her securely on her forearms. Terrified of who had touched her, she jumped and opened her eyes, locking her own onto a pair of ocean blue eyes embedded in a pale, freckled face behind a shock of red hair.

‘Hermione, what’s happened?’ he asked urgently, his voice shaking as much as the fingertips he had wrapped around her elbows.

Hermione, who was breathing heavily, screwed up her face in confusion and looked around the kitchen; the brightly lit kitchen, awash in the warm glow of the evening and coated in a perfect covering of expensive duck egg blue paint.

‘Ron...I…’ she stammered as she laid eyes on the pristine varnished wooden table and the antique lamps hanging from the stone ceiling.

‘You were screaming, Hermione.’ he whispered, and looking back at him she could see the fear in his eyes. ‘You were screaming at someone to stop calling you and to leave you alone. I heard you from upstairs and ran to find you here, against the counter, with your head in your hands.’ he explained.

‘If I tell you what I saw…’ she whispered. ‘I...I can’t Ron…’

His face fell and he dropped her arms, taking a deep breath. ‘You can tell me, it’s going to be okay whatever it was.’

She whimpered, collapsing against him, letting the tears fall and soak through his t-shirt. She felt as he wrapped his arms around her and held her while she tried to make sense of it. The words ‘be strong’ were echoing in her head, the image of him standing across from her fading from her view as she was crowded by the orange of a Chudley Cannons shirt. Madness, she had said to Draco, it must be madness, she repeated to herself.

Lifting her eyes, she saw Ron staring down at her, his eyes swimming with unshed tears. He softly cupped her face in his hand and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

‘Hermione,’ he murmured. ‘What is it that you keep seeing? What is it that you cannot face telling us?’

‘We have seen so many things, Ron. There has been so much that we can’t explain. Can’t this just be another one that's left unsaid, left unexplored?;

Ron sighed, turning away from her and walking over to the table, leaning down. Hermione could see the tension in his arms, see the white grip of his knuckles. She stayed leaning against the counter, waiting for the explosion that was bound to come - she knew him so well after all.

‘Dammit Hermione!’ he shouted, his fist banging against the wood grain as he stood back up to face her, his ears red and his eyes aflame. ‘We don’t have long left, is it so hard to just want to help you?’

‘You can’t help me, Ron,’ she murmured back. ‘This isn’t something we can do together, it’s something I have to face alone.’

‘How much longer do you want us to watch you go through this?’ he shot back at her, and the guilt of the conversation slowly filtered into her chest. ‘How much longer do you think we can watch as you sleep, or don’t sleep, or throw up or hallucinate?’

‘I didn’t ask you to,’ Hermione replied, shaking her head at him, trying to understand that he didn’t mean it. ‘All I asked was for respect. If you can't respect my decision to not tell you, Ron, what am I supposed to do.’

Hermione breathed heavily, feeling the weight of her body become almost too much for her to take. She leaned more heavily on the counter, her weight shifting and her head falling to try and save some energy.

‘Hermione,’ Ron said softly, moving forwards to stand in front of her once again. ‘I know it isn’t what you want but...maybe if your hallucinations are getting worse you should…’

‘Should what Ron?’ Hermione asked, her eyes snapping up to meet his. He looked unsure and sheepish and she instantly knew what he was going to tell her, but too afraid to let his words loose upon the earth. ‘Tell me, Ron.’ she whispered through gritted teeth.

‘I think…’ he stuttered. ‘I think it might be best if you move to palliative.’ His words we rushed, knowing that he would offend her. 

A rage she had not known for months engulfed her and she screamed and pushed him away with everything she had.

‘What?’ she yelled. ‘Seriously!’

‘I just think it’s time we consider it.’

‘We?’ she repeated. ‘There is no we. This is not your life, or your death. This is not something that you can control. You cannot tell me what to do!’

She heard them before she saw them, the footsteps echoing through the old house as they, too, ran towards the kitchen. Harry, whose bedroom was closer, got there first. He rounded the corner of the door and, sliding on socks, came to a stop not far from her. He stood stock still, his arms outstretched, his eyes wide and moving between the two of them. Draco followed shortly, almost knocking into Harry and pushing him over. He made eye contact with Hermione over Harry’s shoulder and creased his eyebrows in a silent question that Harry would vocalise.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, his voice unusually steady. Ron looked at Harry, then to the floor.

‘Tell him Ron, tell them both.’ she laughed maniacally as she said it. ‘Tell them what you want me to do.’

He did not look up from his feet as he said ‘I told Hermione I think she should go to palliative.’ 

‘What?’ Draco and Harry shouted together, their voices echoed against the flagstone floor and Ron’s head shot up, ready to fight back.

‘You weren’t in here! I ran down to her screaming at someone who isn’t here. We have all heard her talking to herself...it’s only getting worse!’

‘What gives you the right to tell her anything about her life, Weaselbee?’ Draco spat, stepping around Harry and looming towards Ron.

‘Maybe the person that has been her best friend for the majority of it, Malfoy. Am I the only one who sees sense here? Hermione,’ he looked at her, his eyes pleading with her. ‘I just want you to be comfortable at the end, I don’t want you stuck here, haunted by your past and regretting everything.’

It was then that Draco moved in-between them so Hermione was unable to see his face anymore. Instead she looked at Harry whose face was sad and pensive.

‘Don’t talk to her!’ Draco said in a low and threatening voice. ‘She made it very clear what she wanted and we have to respect that.’

‘Respect it do we? Like you have always respected her? You can’t come to her rescue every time Malfoy, you are not her knight in shining armour no matter how much you want to be’

‘Knight...that’s just…’ she heard him stutter. ‘That has nothing to do with this.’

‘Just stop!’ Hermione shouted over the both of them. She panted sadly and looked, once more, between the three of them; the flush of anger in Ron, the flush of embarrassment in Draco and the small resignation of Harry. 

‘I don’t think Ron is the only one who feels this way…’ she cut herself off, turning once more to look through the window. Her lip trembled as she looked out to the street beyond, the crescent moon above them and the slight speckle of stars sprinkled across the night sky. ‘Ron’s not the only one, is he Harry?’

A silence filled the kitchen, a terrible silence that Hermione had only heard once before, when a terrible man announced the death of her best friend to a waiting and desperate courtyard of children. 

‘I just…’ she heard Harry start, but he stopped himself and walked to stand next to her, his chest against her arm. She turned to look at him, the sadness in his eyes.

‘Tell me,’ she whispered.

‘ I have been there, Hermione. I have walked freely into death and...I felt peace. I just want you to have that in those last moments, I don’t want you to be scared anymore.’

‘But you haven’t been here, Harry.’ she started to whisper, feeling the grit of her teeth and the tension of her jaw forming as she spoke. ‘You walked to your death knowing it was the right thing to do.’ Her voice was steadily rising as she turned to face him, face the others in the kitchen with a strength she had not felt since she had been in front of the other Draco. 

‘Your death had a cause; you knew what you were walking into. My death means nothing!’ She felt herself begin to shout at him, felt the shake of her body as she unleashed the pain of the months that has preceded. ‘My death is pointless, will be pointless. Nothing good will ever come from it! I am going to die alone, and afraid no matter where I am.’

‘Granger!’ Draco said, ‘Calm down!’ He sounded so far away, her eyes darted to him and he was looking around the room, looking at the floor as her body continued to shake.

‘All I wanted was to be with the people I loved, in a place where I have been loved. Is that so much to ask for?’

‘Granger!’ Draco was shouting at her now, his hands gripping the kitchen table for support. Ron was next to him and it looked like he was being flung around. It was then that Hermione realised she had lost control, and there was nothing she could do about it.

‘I just wanted peace’ she screamed. ‘It’s all I wanted.’

And before she knew it, Harry had taken her in his arms and pulled her against his body. It was evident now, the tremors of the room, the fear in their hearts. Hermione could feel his magic reaching for her, trying to wind itself around her unstable core and calm her down. Her last thought before she drowned in the overwhelming madness of her own curse, was that peace would never come.

She jumped awake, drenched in cold sweat, embraced in a forgotten memory that she was sure involved Harry, a curse and a betrayal. Her breathing was heavy as she brought her hand up to her face, wiping the moisture away and resting her hand on her chest. She must have been staring at the ceiling for all of five minutes when her heart rate finally slowed and she was able to slowly sit up. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, the guilt over her words, the anger at their presumption, the grief she felt for them. Turning her head slowly, she saw Draco, asleep in the chair by her bed, his whole body folded over and resting on the mattress. Ron had called him her Knight in shining armour, but there was no saving her from this. 

As silently as she could, she lifted herself from the bed and, on shaky legs, made her way to the bathroom, intent on splashing cold water on her face. Every step was agony, not for the pain that so often plagued her bones, but because of the impending feeling of doom that her footfalls brought her. The cold water did nothing to alleviate the pressing on her chest, the weight of something coming that she could not shake. Raising her head to look in the mirror, she met her own chocolate brown eyes with hesitation and saw, not the young girl with ambition or the young woman with passion but a husk of her former self. She tried not to look in the mirror anymore, always disappointed by what she saw, knowing that it would never change for the better. 

It was then that her reflection stared at her, and swallowed hard and Hermione’s throat closed in silent fear. She had not swallowed, she had not moved and the pressing feeling in her chest was almost unbearable as her mouth went dry. Her logical brain tried to think it away, a trick of the light, the unusual magic of twilight...but nothing her brain screamed at her could shake the feeling that this encounter had only just begun. Softly and slowly, Hermione lifted her hand to touch the glass, watching as her reflection did the same; the pads of her fingertips spreading upon the cold glass, the palm of her hand falling flat as she watched, with horror, as her reflection opened her mouth and spoke.

‘Help us!’ it uttered.

Hermione howled in terror, jumping back from the mirror and falling back into the old tile flooring, landing on something hard, feeling an object cut her skin. Looking down she was shocked to see broken and dirty porcelain poking out of her hand and blood gushing from the wound. In shock, she looked around desperate to find something to spell the bleeding, but instead was greeted with a dark and dirty bathroom, every corner of which was strung with cobwebs.

‘Hermione!’ she heard from the door.

Turning her head she sobbed and recoiled in horror as the other Draco stood in the doorway and sadly smiled at her. He slowly walked towards her, his hands outstretched to show that he meant her no harm as he knelt before her and tried to take her bloody hand in his. She flinched away, not warning to be touched, unsure of how much more real her hallucinations could get, until he took her hand and he felt - warm and alive. She watched as he drew his wand and muttered a simple healing charm before placing it back in her lap.

‘We should talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who continued to support me through this journey - you are all everything to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This is a totally different writing style then I am used to, but I wanted you to get the essence of my main characters without it feeling forced. Please comment and let me know what you think!


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